


Parenthood

by SleepDeprivedFemale



Series: Legacy [1]
Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Body Horror, Gen, Gore, Minor Character Death, i swear this is a happy story guys, mention of child death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-06-07 10:24:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15217115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepDeprivedFemale/pseuds/SleepDeprivedFemale
Summary: Raising a Grim Reaper is not an easy task. Eight loosely-connected chapters about Lord Death and Kid. The ‘themes’ for each chapter are:1. Pain (Birth): Giving birth to a Grim Reaper was easier said than done.2. Guilt (Complications): Death needs an adult because parenting is hard.3. Relief (Games): What qualifies as quality time between two Grim Reapers again?4. Helplessness (Attacked): Kid goes skateboarding one day and things violently spiral out of control.5. Astonishment (Companionship): A familiar soul outside of Death City is in need of reaping.6. Joy (Attacking): The First Line of Sanzu is connected and Death doesn’t know how to react.7. Dread (Recuperation): A conversation Kid doesn’t want and Death dreads to have.8. Pride (Death): Finally.





	1. Pain (Birth)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Giving birth to a Grim Reaper was easier said than done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something I finished a while back. New chapter will be up every Sunday. Eight chapters in total and for once my posting schedule will be consistent.
> 
> This fic comes with a full Purity Ring playlist for maximum mood setting!
> 
> Playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL5NETqX6IwDZozxZFH-1PUaGRQRmRxl1s
> 
> For this chapter: Purity Ring – Begin Again (https://youtu.be/IIPMzeNWAtk)

If Death had a proper physical body, it would be sweating, heaving and trembling. For lack of a solid physical form, it was their soul that did the equivalent.

Their soul inadvertently let out a pulse of Wavelength and Death almost fell to their body’s equivalent of knees. Still, they gathered their wits, steeled their mind and _pulled_.

This time Death did find themselves on the floor, staring at the fake sky of the Death Room. They tried to get up, but any attempt of coordination was quickly thwarted by another cramped pulse from their soul.

Holding back a frustrated growl, Death settled on the floor of the Death Room and spent a few moments blankly staring at the fake sky. All around them, the area was empty, devoid of sound, wind or change, as Death had planned.

The Grim Reaper was the only being in the Death Room and had made sure no one else would disturb them by making the entrance and exit inaccessible to the point where even sound couldn’t escape. They couldn’t risk anyone walking in and getting a full blast of Death’s frustrated and pained wavelength, lest they also had to deal with accidentally killing an Academy member.

Still, this… process was taking a long time. So far Death had gone over even their most conservative estimation of how long it would take, and they still weren’t anywhere near done.

Who knew fragmenting their soul would be such a pain in the everything?

Well, Death knew. They had done so before, a long time ago. And that fragment…If Death concentrated, they could still sense Asura’s soul, heavily obscured and suppressed with the Kishin’s own skin and seal that trapped the Grim Reaper on the little patch of land that Death City was founded on…

Why had Death chosen to do this again? Sure, maybe having second thoughts now was a bit too late, having already segregated a part of their soul for the future fragment, but the lack of progress made their mind wander.

If they concentrated, they could think past the haze of pain and frustration and remember vague rationalizations about how, with the DWMA slowly gaining ground over the Witches, a Grim Reaper able to escape the confines of Death City was essential. How Asura’s seal had held on for so long that it was safe for Death to do so in the first place. But inwardly…

Death couldn’t fear. They had lost the ability to fear when they had chopped off that part of them -it had been so easy, a clean cut like tearing the crust off one side of a piece of toast- to create Asura.

So no, the hesitation Death felt could not be made of simply fear. Its source was avoidance, Death’s own aversion of having to deal with the part of their past that was less than stellar. Creating a fragment meant facing their past mistakes, Asura, head on.

Not to mention, how would they explain it to everyone else? The creation of a Grim Reaper would be one of the biggest news to Death City, understandably. People would ask questions, there would be rumors, a need for explanations…

If Death was to explain the process, could humans even understand it? Death knew very little about how life reproduced in general, not even mentioning more complex topics as attraction or the mere concept of gender which had been haphazardly applied to them the moment they bothered to interact with humans. The Grim Reaper roughly understood that in humans, two compatible people were needed to create life and then there was a period of time where one of the humans had to ‘gestate’ as the new life grew inside them like a parasite. It was an entirely different procedure than what Death was currently trying to do, which they would liken less to ‘gestating’ and more like ‘hacking a limb off’.

But, it was too late to turn back now. Most of the parts of Death’s soul that were to make the fragment were already doing the equivalent of hanging off sinews. They could technically be reattached as if nothing had ever happened, with rapid healing spiritual or physical being a perk of being a Great Old One and all, but Death had come too far. A new Grim Reaper was needed. Any explanations demanded from them could be waived off the same way they had waved off so much more.

It was time.

Death gave one final look at the Death Room, which on account of its owner’s mind, had cloudy skies and the ground oozing a thick black substance, closed their eyes and pulled.

They kept pulling for what felt like forever, their sense of mind in the same muddled state as every other sense.

Like tearing off a fingernail, the fragment dislodged from their soul and Death felt their mind into sharp focus, making them acutely aware of how rough the gravel in the Death Room was and how they felt like they’d been pummeled with a wrecking ball.

 _Ow_.

Still, that means that Death could now stop suppressing their regeneration capability, and they immediately found themselves clear-headed, standing upright.

Just as quickly, Death had to suppress another part of their soul for fear of all their hard work being reintegrated into their soul.

Hoping Death’s slip in judgement hadn’t cost all their progress so far, the Grim Reaper looked up where the fragment slowly floated down at eye-level.

It was a tiny thing, not even solid enough to be classified as a proper soul yet, with rough edges and leftover hair-thin strands floating aimlessly from where it was fragmented away from Death’s soul. The torn parts reached out to each other until all the pieces had coalesced into a roughly spherical shape, like a Play-Doh ball made by a toddler. Even after coalescing into a semi-coherent form, it frantically sent out small pulses of Death’s Wavelength, desperate to reach out and reunite with.

When its proto-Wavelength found Death’s soul had effectively barred any methods or reintegration -which Death had thankfully remembered to do at the last moment- the strands retreated, the edges were smoothed, and the structure further coalesced into a more stable and uniform form, trying to get some semblance of being.

Death let out a sigh of relief. So far so good; the pieces had managed to consolidate itself into one fragment. Now, the next step was to wait for it to assume a physical form, any form that was capable to interact with the physical world.

Death waited. The fragment floated, seemingly aimlessly.

Death waited more. The small ball floated around the Death room, doing anything but creating a physical form, even one as insubstantial as Death’s.

This wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all.

Was it too unstable to even create a coherent form? Did it have no desire to create a physical form? Or maybe…

Death let out a sigh.

They had hoped to avoid complications like this. However, they had also prepared for this, having already encountered this difficulty before.

Apparently, the fragment would need an anchor, a prepared form of sorts that it would need to initially integrate until it grew coherent and strong enough to take complete control of its physical form.

The idea of preparing an anchor had come to Death upon remembering Asura’s creation. That fragment had been frantic, bouncing from place to place with a manic energy until it burrowed under the Earth. Moments had passed, until a decayed human hand, the rotten skin, torn muscles and broken bones being rapidly healed by black strands characteristic of a Grim Reaper’s Wavelength, shot up from the ground. Asura had spent their first moments in utter disorientation, a confusion that lasted until they-

Death shook their head. Why were they thinking about Asura in a time like this? Sure, they were the first fragment, but…

This was different.

It had to be different.

… It didn’t feel different. There was more pain this time, but right now a similar approach had to be used…

Actually, the more Death thought about it, the more obvious it became to him that maybe this approach had always been needed. Death’s memories of their creation were simply coming into existence fully-formed, never having to deal with a predecessor. Maybe Death’s predecessor had also used an anchor of sorts for Death.

In this case, the similarity shouldn’t bother them, right?

Well, no matter what the truth was, Death knew what they had to do.

Death walked away from the center of the Death Room and towards the vast sea of crooked crosses, keeping their Soul Perception firmly fixed on the fragment. Part of the ground had been freshly dug, with the rationale that if _it_ wasn’t needed, then it would remain buried, as others of its kind were.

There were unfortunate ethical implications of this, Death was sure of it. Not only for its use but for how the Grim Reaper had come by it. In Death’s defense, it had been disturbingly easy. There never was a lack of dead children.

Death looked back to the fragment, as it kept coalescing into a smaller ball. Occasionally, it sent out confused pulses of its half-formed Wavelength, alone and stranded.

With renewed determination, Death’s hands formed, sharp talon-like fingers, a remnant from their older persona. They dug into the ground until they carefully retrieved a tightly-packed bundle, roughly the size than their palm.

Briefly, Death wondered what the story behind it was.

Well. Wherever it came from and however it ended up like this wouldn’t matter. Everything would change as the fragments soul would initially integrate with the physical anchor until taking full control of it completely, eventually being able to change forms at will, the same way Death could.

Death carefully headed to where the fragment was, the bundle in their lap. It stayed floating in midair, though it had fallen down to the height of the average human.

Death held the bundle by the tip of two of their claws as they placed it to the location of the fragment, the physical form of the bundle able to pass through the spiritual nature of the soul.

The fragment pulsed and moved away, as if surprised by the sudden presence. Death frowned and repositioned the bundle.

After a couple of more tries that had Death feeling like they’d inadvertently joined a game of tag, the fragment ceased fleeing the bundle. Instead it gave off a subdued glow, dark tendrils manifesting into the physical realm until…

Like being picked up by a vacuum, the fragment vanished from sight in the physical realm. Death’s Soul Perception picked up countless vein-like tendrils forming across the bundle, as expected-

The bundle jerked, and the cloth ripped at Death’s talons. The only reason it didn’t crash on the hard floor was because of Death’s quick reflexes, the unrolling bundle caught and held carefully on their palm.

A small hand peaked out of the cloth, the fingers clenching and unclenching as the entire bundle shifted until it came to an abrupt stop. Moments later, the hand tightly clenched, forming a tiny fist.

After a few moments of inactivity Death lightly poked the bundle.

No response.

Death’s mask distorted into a frown. Was this supposed to happen? Asura had been conscious immediately; then again this was a purposely incomplete fragment, so maybe the lack of activity was the norm.

Death had no idea what they were doing and hated every moment of it.

Careful not to disrupt the bundle too much, Death slowly removed the cloth around it, revealing a head that couldn’t be bigger than a melon. What little hair there was on their head was black, with three square-like white markings on the left-most side. The beginnings of the Lines of Sanzu, which would only grow longer, until…

Death refocused on the rest of the features, noticing the eyes were held shut.

…Was it - _they_ sleeping? Everything seemed to be alright soul-wise, so maybe sleep was what they needed. They had just been created after all.

Still… sleep? Was that it?

Death brought their palm close to their torso and looked down at the fragment. They were really small. And they were probably, _hopefully_ , sleeping. On Death’s lap.

An unknown fuzzy feeling made Death’s shoulder’s stoop. They leaned in closer…

The head slightly turned to one side and the sudden movement caused Death to almost jump. A tuft of hair settled on top of their eyes and Death frowned. They brought one of their fingers above the forehead to swipe away the hair…

And immediately brought it back when a thin red line formed upon Death’s needle-like fingers came in contact with the skin.

A single drop of blood escaped the line -the wound- and Death felt a wave of numbness wash over them.

What were they thinking? Pairing up _sharp claws_ with _soft human skin_ , what else could possibly happen?

The fragment no, their _child_ , shifted again, and Death guiltily wondered if they’d caused pain. They had no experience with a body before, so how would a cut, even one this small, felt?

Their fears were somewhat assuaged as the red line disappeared, giving way to repaired skin. Fragile or not, they were still a Grim Reaper, Death noted with relief.

Death looked away from the healed forehead brow to meet a golden-eyed gaze and found themselves unable to move.

After an unknown amount of time, with Death unable to look away at the being and _sentience_ that stared back at them, the child looked away. Their gaze became half-lidded as they shifted, rolling in Death’s palm so that they curled up against the torso. Their chest moved up and down in a steady, reassuring rhythm.

Death focused on their Soul Perception and noted that their child’s soul, now fully settled on a smooth round shape, was slowly turning yellow, finishing up the first cycle of maturation.

Death carefully brought their hands closer, the talon hovering above the child’s form like protective branches of a tree. Despite their previous little mishap, nothing catastrophically had happened so far. Obviously though, there were more than a few areas Death had to work on. Death could only hope that they’d learn fast enough, and dread about the looming possibility of failure.

“You better appreciate this.”

They didn’t mean it in the first place, but, when a tiny disoriented hand reached out and awkwardly clutched onto to their talon-like finger, Death had regretted saying that at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is appreciated.


	2. Guilt (Complications)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death needs an adult because parenting is hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL5NETqX6IwDZozxZFH-1PUaGRQRmRxl1s  
> For this chapter: Purity Ring – push pull (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xiV0RN0mPSk&t=0s&list=PL5NETqX6IwDZozxZFH-1PUaGRQRmRxl1s&index=2)

Death was having issues.

Child-shaped issues. Parental issues. Issues they were utterly, woefully unprepared to deal with.

The child was being clingy. Or, more accurately, Death thought they were being clingy. To be completely honest, Death had no idea how clingy a child was supposed to be in the first place, and considering their rather asocial nature, their scale of clinginess was skewed towards the ‘eye contact is more than enough’ side.

Yet Death couldn’t find the energy about being bothered that the fragment basically refused to be out of their grasp for any amount of time. Quite the opposite, Death found it endearing, followed by sheer confusion about why they found such clinginess endearing in the first place.

Spirit had been the first to comment on how adorable this whole thing was. He had mentioned koalas and how their young would cling on to their parents and one level, and one hand Death was insulted that the Grim Reaper was compared to that koala creature, but on the other hand they’d been intrigued.

Frankly, they had no idea how this whole parenthood thing worked. Any guides they had sneakily obtained, most having straightforward titles such as ‘Parents’, ‘Working Mother’, and ‘Parenting For Dummies’, spoke of breastfeeding and napping and a hundred other insignificant things that just didn’t apply to Grim Reapers. Death had also tried another magazine called ‘Mother Jones’, but that had turned out to be a collection of articles about politics and the like which, worryingly, Death had found more understandable than any of the other magazines or books they’d read.

When Death had raised such concern to Spirit as a last-ditch attempt at salvaging the trainwreck that was their parenting skills, their new Deathscythe had muttered nonsense a such as ‘taking it easy’, ‘it’ll all work out in the end’ and a phrase Death still wasn’t willing to accept had been uttered by a human addressing a Grim Reaper, ‘trust your instincts’.

Honestly, Death sometimes feared for Spirit’s child. Even then though, the child also had a second parent who could probably rein in any collateral damage, while Death was a single woefully unprepared parent.

Wanting to improve the mood and ‘celebrate the occasion’, Spirit, always unhelpful, had even taken a few pictures of Death and their child. Such actions had been quickly abandoned when the resulting images featured Death as a heavily-distorted evil cloud and their child as an eerie pale-faced creature emerging from an abysmal cocoon with glowing yellow eyes.

Spirit had still put the photograph in a bright pastel blue frame with balloons, fireworks and the phrase ‘Cool Daddy’ in a disorganized font whose bent letters looked like they’d been smashed out of their proper structure by a sledgehammer. More confusingly, the photo had been given to them along with a card depicting two humans, the adult throwing the smaller one high up in the air, with the phrase ‘DANGER: NEW DAD’ printed on the bottom. Inside the card was Spirit’s handwriting that read ‘Congratulations on the baby’ with the printed phrase ‘congrats on the sex’ hastily scribbled over.

Death had disproved of this whole venture, though they secretly stashed the card in a safe box and had carefully stashed away the photo behind the Death Mirror, so that they could retrieve it at any time.

Still, what Death needed to know right now was whether all this clinging was normal, how it was supposed to develop and also why Death just couldn’t resist poking those tiny cheeks-

Hem.

Point made.

Their child shifted in the embrace and they nearly jumped, looking down as the tiny fragment switched sides with a soft grunt.

Aw.

Death’s hands closed around on the child’s frame, careful to support them while not pressing on too much. It was a maneuver that was easier said than done, since Death had no idea how to be gentle, and the fragment’s frame was tiny and squishy, not to mention Death still wasn’t used to navigating their new hands. After the incident with Death’s talons, which only became more embarrassing at each recollection, Death had opted for a permanent change of their hands, adopting a white blocky structure from the wrist-down. White was because that made it easier to know where their child began and Death’s hand ended, and block-shaped because of the hugely decreased chance of accidental impalement.

Death kept looking down at the fragment and its little bundle of dark fabric. So far the child wouldn’t speak, which Death didn’t know if it was normal. They slept a lot, and Death had no idea if that was normal as well.

At least their soul looked healthy enough, becoming more compact and in less risk of breaking apart as more days passed. Unless of course there was something else going on behind the scenes that Death couldn’t detect, since the tiny yellow soul no longer was a part of them.

Had Death mentioned how much they hated parenting?

The Death’s Room entrance open and Death let their frame deflate. The only one that visited them this frequently, in fact the only person that regularly visited them period, was…

“Hey there, fellow new daddy!” Spirit excitedly announced, walking towards Death with a little pink bundle on his grasp.

“Hello Deathscythe.”

Spirit couldn’t contain his grin as he shifted the pink bundle to reveal Spirit’s child tucked carefully inside. From what Death knew, the baby had been born recently, and that Spirit couldn’t keep his eyes off it.

“Isn’t she _adorable_?” Spirit whispered.

Death looked down at the bundle where an almost-bald bleary-eyed pink flesh-bag yawned, its gums red and raw.

“Yes,” Death simply said in a monotone. “Very cute.”

At that exact moment the baby let out a piercing cry that Death clearly recognized as one of distress. It was the most familiar cry they’d encountered after all.

“It is supposed to be doing that?”

“Aw, don’t wowwy my witwe baby giww, daddy's hewe,” Spirit cooed in a high-pitched tone and undecipherable dialect that made Death wondered if he’d hit his head on something.

Yet despite the odd speech patterns, Spirit began rocking the baby, and, to Death’s eternal surprise, the cries quieted down.

Huh. Death would have to remember to test that later.

“She’s getting crankier, must be bedtime soon,” Spirit muttered, his smitten expression not having faded one bit.

“Sounds like you have it all figured out,” Death observed, still looking at the now-sleeping baby.

Spirit scoffed. “I’ve no idea what I’m doing half the time.”

Huh. That was strangely reassuring to hear.

“And what about your little one-?” Spirit cut himself off. “What was the name again?”

“Name?” Death repeated, and felt their equivalent of a stomach drop.

“Yeah, what’s this little guy’s name?”

A name? Little _guy_?

Oh no, what had Death gotten themselves into?

“Oh, its-their- his… uh…” Death trailed off, glad their body couldn’t betray their thoughts by sweating or flustering.

To be perfectly honest, Death simply hadn’t thought of a name. It seemed like a grave oversight now that it had been pointed out to them, after all a name was something everybody needed. But…

Asura’s name had been meticulously picked, after Death had studied the legends of an ancient people and with great consideration. And well, Death had seen how _that_ had turned out.

Still, a name was needed.

“Death,” Death said and quickly regretted it. Death was their name wasn’t it?  Then again, according to their plans, the fragment would grow up and eventually replace them, so Death was the most appropriate name. “Death…”

Spirit blinked. “Death juni-?”

“Death the Kid!” Death completed their thought, holding back the urge to snap their fingers.

Yes, Death the Kid would work. Hell, Death could use Kid as a nickname and a signifier.

It was perfect. Brilliant. A masterpiece.

“Death the Kid,” they repeated.

Death was acing this parenting thing.

The fragment let out a small sound, -could have been a grunt, moan, or whatever other sounds a baby could make that wasn’t crying.

Spirit let out a small coo. “Aw, I think he likes it.”

“He?” Death repeated. Oh no, did they have to go through the whole gender thing again? Oh no...

“Oh. Is he not a boy?”

“No, no, he’s a boy,” Death quickly lied.

Dammit, they had to deal with the gender thing again.

Asura had been referred to as he. Death had been referred to as ‘he’, she’, ‘they‘ depending on the people, and on some rude occasions ‘it’. The inhabitants of Death City had almost universally gone with ‘he’ and while Death had gotten used to responding to it, inwardly they insisted on ‘they’ because it appeared to be the most neutral option of them all.

Anyways, Death supposed Kid could be a ‘he’ as much as the other Grim Reapers had been a ‘he’. Worst case scenario, if Kid did want to be referred to in a different manner, Death would be more than grateful to oblige, glad that this confusing matter would be taken off their hands.

Yes, that would work, wouldn’t it?

Kid shifted in Death’s embrace and they quickly found themselves rocking the bundle in their arms, just like Spirit had done for his child. Unlike Spirit’s child however, Kid apparently decided to start crying and clung on tighter to Death’s frame.

The Grim Reaper let out a long-suffering sigh. Was this what parenting was? A series of seemingly inane yet surprisingly complicated decisions with unforeseen consequences?

Death felt an ounce of regret, not because they had brought Kid into this world in the first place, but because of how easily they could mess it up for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is appreciated.


	3. Uncertainty (Games)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What qualifies as quality time between two Grim Reapers again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL5NETqX6IwDZozxZFH-1PUaGRQRmRxl1s
> 
> For this chapter: Purity Ring – Obedear (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ETbGpGJNVLM&t=0s&list=PL5NETqX6IwDZozxZFH-1PUaGRQRmRxl1s&index=3)

Death was slowly getting used to this whole parenting thing.

Kid had been growing steadily, having learned to walk and somewhat take care of himself. In fact, Death was planning on testing that ability with a little _trip_.

Oh yes, Death was looking forward to and dreading the trip at the same time. After their disastrous attempt to teach Kid cooking that had ended up with the kitchen on fire, Death decided to try out something less potentially harmful.

A shopping trip!

Well, somewhat of a shopping trip. It would be more like a ‘let’s get out and be social’ trip that would involve some purchasing. Like clothes.

Death had decided to get Kid some proper clothes as well, after having heard about how Spirit had to do some cloth-shopping for his little one -Maka was her name if Death remembered correctly. Sure, Kid had a cloak he could use, but if they went to a clothing store and there was something Kid liked, why not try it out?

In fact, the ‘why not try it out’ had turned out to be the main approach of Death’s parenting.

As Death waited at the entrance of their house, a tiny figure came at them with in a brisk pace, walking as fast as his short legs would allow.

“Hey there kiddo~!” Death ruffled their child’s hair - so soft!-  as they took their son’s hand and headed out of the house and out into the street. Kid stayed close to Death their entire way, their hand still tiny enough to be able to grasp only one of their fingers.

They made it to the main Merchant road at a glacial pace, Kid occasionally stopping to observe his surroundings. People walked to and from the stores, more often than not glancing or outright staring at the two Grim Reapers. A particular brave soul came up to them and tried to strike up conversation, but Death had quickly and politely told them that they were here on a personal trip and if they could just bugger off, that’d be great.

Their first stop was a children’s’ clothing store, leaving with Kid wearing with what humans considered a ‘formal’ child’s outfit; a white shirt and black trouser and suspenders. On one hand Death had been a fan of the more traditional cloak, but the clothes looked nice too, so why not try them out?

The sales person there had also been positive, having whispered to Death that their son looked adorable and then cooing at how Kid was looking like a big boy. To Death’s amusement, Kid had frowned at the woman’s infantilising tone but had otherwise said nothing.

In addition, another one of Death’s worries were somewhat assuaged. Their child hadn’t made any objection about the use of ‘he’, so Death guessed it was good enough. Death also hoped they wouldn’t cause any problems in the future. They still weren’t sure how the whole gender thing worked. Then again Kid probably had no idea as well so, as everything else, it would be a learning experience for both Grim Reapers.

Their next stop had been to a brightly-colored building proclaiming itself to be an indoor ‘playground’.

Death’s first impression of the building’s interior was that it was made up of child-eating contraptions. The biggest one was painted with bright colors, as if it wanted to disorient any adult that had any semblance of sanity or color theory. It had thick nets instead of solid walls, as if teasing parents by making their children visible but inaccessible. Tubes went in and out of it, as well as through and around, as if part of it had been inspired by wildly-exaggerated chemistry equipment. Disembodied screams came out of it, which could be interpreted as either cries of joy or yells of someone being chased by a serial killer. Children went in and seemingly only came out after being bribed with the promise of sweets and bigger child-eating contraptions.

Death had looked down at Kid with dread.

Kid had been simply looking at the contraption dispassionately and had made no move to approach it.

“Would you like to go in there?” Death had ventured.

Kid had shaken his head.

Death had never been so relieved.

And that was how Death had found themselves arguing with an ice-cream merchant about how many balls of ice cream could be placed on a cone. The merchant was muttering something about structural integrity and whatnot, but that was what people had told Death during DWMA’s construction and that had turned out to be a bunch of nonsense.

A few minutes later, holding two tiny cones dripping with disproportionately big melting ice-cream balls, Death headed to where they’d left Kid, on a small bench at the side of the square.

Kid wasn’t there.

Definitely _not_ panicking, Death scanned the nearby area with their Soul Perception in a perfectly calm and composed manner. The sigh they let out was definitely _not_ one of relief upon finding out Kid was just around the corner. Another soul was there as well, very close to Kid…

Death slunk back and ducked around a corner, listening in to the ensuing conversation.

“…so you step on it like that…” an unknown youthful voice babbled on, and Death peaked over the corner.

Kid was standing next to boy roughly his age who had one foot on a board with wheels and moving it back and forth in demonstration.

Kid listened as the boy brought up the board and said something about that piece of wood being called a skateboard. Kid was then given the board experimentally while the boy babbled on about how to use it.

Death’s surprise only increased when Kid placed down the board and used it with a smile on his face.

Deciding they’d seen enough, Death nonchalantly walked around the corner.

The boy’s mouth hung open when Death appeared. An attempt at looking friendlier by giving the boy a little wave did nothing.

“Hello Father.”

The boy’s wide-eyed stare now extended to Kid, as if seeing him for the first time. He babbled something about needing to get back to his parents and, before Death could get in a word, he and his skateboard were zooming down the street, its whole frame rocking wildly on the cobblestone road.

Death looked down at Kid who had put his hands behind his back and staring up at them.

“I got you ice cream~!” Death offered handing Kid the ice-cream cone with the most scoops; they had melted into one another and looked like a 3D Jackson Pollock painting.

Kid accepted the ice-cream with a thank you -so polite!- and the two walked back to the bench Death was supposed to meet Kid before.

As Kid began eating is ice-cream, Death looked down at their own portion and realised they had made a grave miscalculation.

They had no mouth. At least no mouth that could be used to eat the ice-cream without potentially giving the old merchant by the side a heart attack.

Well.

“So, you made a friend?” Death began, wondering how long the ice-cream would last in the heat and if it would be considered good parenting to give a second oversized ice-cream to their son.

Kid shrugged. “I asked him what he was doing and he told me about his skateboard.”

Ah, so that’s what this board contraption was called. A skateboard.

“It looked like you were having fun.”

A ‘skateboard’... Well, it wasn’t the most unlikely object that had caught a Grim Reaper’s fancy. Wings used to be all the rage back in the day. Death themselves had been inspired by a design they had seen in a novel provided to them by one of the citizens of Death City some time ago, about little engine-like propulsors that people nowadays called jets. A skateboard made as much sense as jets and wings in Death’s opinion.

“It was nice,” Kid admitted.

“It did look neat,” Death hummed in agreement.

A brief silence followed, one of expectation for Death. Any moment now, the question would come up.

“Could…” Kid paused, cleared his throat and tried again. “Could I get one?

“Of course!” Death quickly answered, already having practiced an answer. “In fact, I think we passed by a shop that sells these skateboards a while back after we’re done eating.”

As Death watched Kid give them a smile then double his efforts at eating the ice-cream, they had to resist the urge to ruffle their son’s hair again -they were surprisingly fluffy and the three Lines looked absolutely adorable!

Time to get a skateboard alright. After all, why not try it out?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is appreciated.


	4. Helplessness (Attacked)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kid goes skateboarding one day and things violently spiral out of control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL5NETqX6IwDZozxZFH-1PUaGRQRmRxl1s  
> For this chapter: Purity Ring – Dust Hymn (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x1qNtKcaROw&list=PL5NETqX6IwDZozxZFH-1PUaGRQRmRxl1s&index=4)

Grass crunched under Kid’s shoes as he made his way through the graveyard, his backpack rattling when he had to jump over small gaps between gravestones and the occasional fallen branch.

With the setting sun and the lack of any funerals, the cemetery was mostly empty. Even the occasional elderly people that, upon encountering the young Grim Reaper, would pat him on the head and give him hard candy were absent as well. Its only inhabitants were a family of crows perched high up on a leafless tree, letting out irregular caws.

Kid walked by the dead trees and graves absentmindedly. He had taken this route many times before. His trip through the graveyard quieter shortcut and as a way for Kid to reach his destination without having to encounter many people, students of a nearby elementary school in particular.

Kid didn’t think he had an aversion to interacting with people but sometimes there were things Kid wanted to do without being distracted, while at other times he simply preferred having some privacy.

As Kid approached the graveyard’s stone-pillared exit, the sun’s last rays began to disappear over the horizon. Being careful not to make any noise, Kid walked by one of the partially-crumbled stone pillars and looked over at his target.

The skatepark.

A small designated area, set at the outer reaches of Death City, bordering Father’s soul. Years ago, it had been an empty plot of land, bordered by a few houses in dire need of renovation and, further down from the road that bordered the land, one of Death City’s elementary schools.

Last year though, most of the land had been made into an outdoor basketball field, while the rest of it had been repurposed into a skatepark created from salvaged material, apparently being built by students as a part of a school ‘beautify our surroundings’ program.

The resulting creation was a sprawling mess of ramps, halfpipes, rails and other structures Kid couldn’t identify. The first time Kid had visited, he had spent the better part of the day muttering to himself in frustration at the seemingly nonsensical planning. In later visits, he simply tried to ignore the chaotic layout, to moderate success.

A yell distracted Kid from his thoughts, coming from a group of children on the park. Other groups of kids were there as well, spread throughout the structures. ‘Peers’ was technically the right word for them, the children being around Kid’s age and going to the elementary close to the park.

However, the word ‘peers’ implied that Kid could get along with them but that quickly turned out to be a bad idea. That one time Kid had attempted to talk to them ended up in making one of the children cry. Kid had no idea if this was his fault, and in his defense, the boy was the first one to bring up his sick grandpa. Kid had only explained that it was mostly likely the boy’s grandpa would die, the boy had started crying saying he didn’t want his grandpa to die, in which point Kid, wanting to reassure the boy, had said that everyone, boy included, would eventually die and everything had gone downhill from there.

Not wanting to make any of his ‘peers’ cry again, Kid had decided to keep away and use the skatepark during the evening when it was empty.

So, Kid sat by the stone plinth and waited. The sun had already set, so it wouldn’t be long now.

A few minutes passed. One of the children called out to her peers that she had to go back home and  was soon joined in by others as they left the park. In a couple of more minutes the last group had left the park and the area was empty.

After confirming that the skatepark was indeed devoid of people with his Soul Perception, Kid exited the graveyard and made his way through the park. He sat down next to a half-pipe, unzipped his backpack and took out his skateboard, the one gifted to him by Father roughly a year ago.

Kid smiled at the recollection. Despite how much Kid had liked the skateboard, his first thought had been how this wasn’t supposed to be something that he should be doing in the first place. Yet Father had been more than happy, even getting Kid his own skateboard and saying they were happy that Kid had some hobbies. Kid still couldn’t understand fully why Father had said that, but surely they knew better, so Kid had been more than happy to indulge his newfound hobby.

So, Kid had been coming here for the past year after his lessons with Father were over. After quickly coming to grips with how a skateboard operated, he had even started trying out tricks. He liked aerial ones the most.

Letting his skateboard besides him, Kid retrieved a few more items from his backpack, a helmet, knee, elbow and wrist pads.

Supposedly, these items were protective gear, their purpose being to prevent injuries. Initially, Kid had thought little of them, knowing that any injuries he did sustain -if he fell off his skateboard in the first place- would be healed instantly. However, from what little Kid knew about ‘proper skateboarding’ one was supposed to wear these things at all times. There was even a big sign by the park that said he had to wear protective gear. So, even if Kid still saw little purpose in wearing these things, rules were rules.

Kid spent about an hour practicing some basic tricks until he eventually grew bored. Surely he could try out some more advanced things by now. Worst case scenario, he had the protective gear and everything.

Kid walked towards the very edge of the park, bordering Father’s soul, where the edges of Death City and the skatepark were marked with a brand-new metal fence.

Two new structures stood adjacent to the fence, a big ramp that lead to a halfpipe. A bright blue gym mattress had been placed at the gap between the two, and already looked like it had been put to use.

Kid tried out the ramp a few times, but, frustratingly enough, always found himself landing on the mattress.

Kid walked to the highest point of the ramp for what felt like the umpteenth time. The young Grim Reaper could surely do this trick.

 Maybe his error was a lack of speed; Kid erred on the side of caution when it came to new tricks -it wouldn’t do if he broke his skateboard- but frustration welled inside him.

He got up on the skateboard again, leaned over the ramp, and pushed, _hard_. He went down the ramp faster than he had ever had before, and as the ground began to even and ascend-

Something collided with the wheels, rattling the whole skateboard as it veered off course, towards the side of the fence.

Kid thought about getting off the skateboard, already too close to the fence and likely to drop off the side of the ramp. However, that would mean that the skateboard would fly off, upon which it could either land beyond Death City where Kid couldn’t go get it, or maybe it would collide with the edge of the halfpipe and beak -the wheels were dangerously rattling and the wood creaked-

Maybe if Kid made the jump and landed at the halfpipe he could come to a safe stop there, and not risk a broken skateboard-

The edge came up before Kid was ready and he lost his balance, the skateboard taking off the ramp as he and it went flying over the fence.

Kid’s side hit the hard ground, raising up a small cloud of dust and sand. The air had been pushed out of his lungs, his sides hurt as if they’d been smashed in with a hammer and he tasted dirt.

Kid gingerly picked himself up. Despite his awkward fall, the only major injury was where he’d landed with his ribs, and even then, the limited pain Kid felt made him think the bones were most likely bruised than cracked. His helmet tilted sideways, the strap having snapped during the fall, and Kid took it off, smoothing down his hair and looked around.

His hand fell helplessly to his side when he took in the desert landscape around him, abruptly cut off from the concrete of Death City, the difference punctuated by a metal fence.

Kid was outside of Death City.

He quickly got to his feet, ready to dart back into Father’s soul when a metallic gleam a few feet away from him and opposite of the direction he wanted to go caught his eye.

His skateboard! He couldn’t lose it, Father had gotten it for him-

But he was outside Death City, outside Father’s soul, and he wasn’t supposed to even stray close to the edge-

But Father’s gift-!

Kid looked between Father’s soul and the banged-up skateboard, turned upside down, its metal wheels uselessly spinning. It would take less than a minute and the skateboard wasn’t completely ruined, so Kid could just pick it up and then head back immediately.

As Kid reached down for his skateboard, the ground exploded.

For a second time this day, Kid tasted dirt. At least his skateboard was now safely held in his hands.

A low growl made Kid bring himself up and glare at whatever was making that noise. An animal would have enough self-preservation instincts to not approach a Grim Reaper in the first place, crows being the only exception, but they were smart enough to approach when said Grim Reaper was in good spirits. So, that should make the suspect a human, albeit a rather rude one.

Yet what stared back was anything but human, because Kid knew typical humans did not have a dozen hands with claw-like fingers, stretched green skin, beady eyes and rows of sharp teeth.

Most importantly, typical human souls were not red with scab-like patches.

_Kishin Egg_. The term echoed in Kid’s head like a scream in a cave, as his muscles tensed yet remained still.

Part of him screeched at Kid to lunge at the creature and kill it, yet another one cried that he should head back and that he had already wasted enough precious seconds-

For a moment, Kid stood in place, body torn between following two competing urges.

A moment was all it took.

The creature swiped with its talon-like fingers, and Kid was shoved back from the impact.

He coughed and this time the dirt was mixed with blood.

Kid tried to get up but found himself on his knees, again and again. Looking down, he saw the lower part of his jacket torn and his shirt drenched in blood.

He was hurt. Badly.

The creature let out an animalistic cry and Kid pushed himself away from a swipe at his neck.

And promptly collapsed.

His wounds throbbed. This wasn’t like any injury Kid had ever had, and it _hurt_ , it hurt _a lot_ -

The creature lunged again, and Kid barely dodged a set of claws that would have run him through.

The movement only caused more pain, and Kid couldn’t help but actually look down at the wound. Surely it would have healed by now?

The experience was surreal, and for a moment Kid felt like he was looking at a stranger’s body. There were multiple gashes on his torso the top ones shallower than the rest. The top-most one had caught him on the chest, while the bottom-most wound was on his abdomen-

Kid felt his vision blur and his balance turn precarious. He was losing a lot of blood, he had to bring his free hand to his belly because stuff -solid stuff- almost spilled out of the wound-

The creature lunged once more and Kid fell backwards, barely missing the claws again.

He scrambled upright, legs barely responding as Kid ran to the fence, the screaming creature using half of its hands to drag itself after him.

Kid reached the fence and used it as support to jump over a swipe of claws, quickly finding himself on the ground as the part of the fence he was holding on to was cut off.

Throwing the now-useless metal bars at the creature’s face, Kid used the precious few seconds he’d earned trying and failing to cross over the fence, collapsing when the base of the metal bars gave way. His skateboard, which he had been absent-mindedly holding on to, still span its wheels uselessly.

The creature cried in pain as one of the bars embedded itself on its forehead, before following after the Grim Reaper, ripping the metal fence apart. Multiple sets of its hands descended on Kid, and had barely brought up his skateboard as its talons dug into the wood, their edges inches away from Kid’s eyes.

The creature swiped its hands, talons retracting, and Kid was left with two useless broken pieces.

Kid looked up as new sets of claws were raised, about to skewer him. Father’s soul was so close, all Kid had to do was get up but his body was heavy…

Kid could only bring himself to roll away, and the maneuver turned out less than successful when one of the claws caught him in the upper shoulder. A scream escaped Kid’s throat, and they realized they couldn’t breathe, the steady thrum of his heart was gone, his innards were showing and the creature loomed above.

An ancient instinct screamed and a heavy haze fell over Kid’s mind as he grabbed the creature’s wrist and snapped the appendage in two, shards of the sharp bone fractures embedded into his palm like splinters.

The creature reeled back in pain, claws retracting from Kid’s frame, while the young Grim Reaper was barely holding on to consciousness. An approaching yell causes his ears to hurt, as once again the Kishin Egg chased after him. Disregarding the wailing creature, Kid’s already bloody nails dug into the sand, as he propelled himself forwards, lading on the cold concrete of the skatepark.

Father’s Wavelength washed over him. Kid felt his body go fully numb, yet his soul was as sharp as ever, and there was a resonance-

Kid found himself blocked off and he inadvertently choked. Why was the connection blocked off, surely Father-?

Through blurred vision, the creature’s frame was split in half. Thick drops of liquid fell on Kid -blood?

A gentle, _familiar_ set of arms, carefully picked him, and Kid’s world went black.

\\*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*/

Death couldn’t feel fear, but what they were experiencing right now had an uncanny resemblance to it.

They had been worried enough where there was a resonance, something they had last encountered when Kid could be considered a toddler, the resonance a last-ditch attempt at merging back with the main soul. For Kid nowadays, his soul as stable as they came, to initiate one willingly or not and with all the dangers it presented…

Well, Death had been prepared for the worst.

They had been promptly corrected when they found Kid, his son’s body bloody and mangled, as a Kishin Egg loomed above it.

Death couldn’t exactly recall what their thought process had been then -maybe for the best- as they made quick work of the Kishin Egg and brought Kid to the Academy’s hospital wing, but they did recall a worrying faint red haze clouding their vision.

Death shook their head. They could think about such things later. What they had to focus on now was…

Kid was neatly laid on the hospital bed, with a gown and a thin plastic-like blanket on him. His nastiest wound, the wide gash at his belly, had mostly mended itself, with only parts of the wound still being open. Bandages had been liberally applied to keep the wound together for easier healing.

His son’s eyes were open, though he quickly averted his gaze.

Death tilted their head. Was he avoiding them? “Kid?”

Kid kept looking away. His hands clutched tightly at the blanket as he brought it up higher, almost covering his face.

Well, this was clearly avoidance and it wouldn’t do.

“Kiddo?” Death leaned closer to Kid, making sure to make their frame as small and as harmless as possible. “How you doin’?” They casually asked, forgoing any proper grammar for a nonchalant, jovial tone.

“…Fine,” came a muffled response a few moments later.

Death’s didn’t even need to use their Soul Perception to detect the lie, evident from when Kid tried to get up but flinched before falling back down. “Are you sure?”

“…Hurts. Only a bit though,” the Grim Reaper quickly added the last part, before grimacing and hugging the area where the bandages had been applied.

Death couldn’t help but frown, an expression that had become somewhat standard ever since they had Kid. Had they given Kid too low of a dose of painkillers? Had the doctor or nurse in charge not considered the Grim Reaper’s innate resistance to toxins? Death wouldn’t be surprised, the staff here had even tried hooking Kid to a useless heartbeat monitor. Surely if Death looked around the room, they could find a bottle or two-

Kid shirked away from Death’s frown, as if it’d been directed at him. “Sorry.”

Death abandoned their futile search for painkillers and tilted their head at Kid. “For what?” Kid buried himself under the blanket again, and Death’s frame deflated. “Kiddo…”

No response.

“Son.” Death’s voice settled on a more comfortable low tone. They placed a hand on Kid’s shoulder, careful not to disturb the wounds. Kid still didn’t meet their gaze but also didn’t pull away. It wasn’t perfect, but it was progress.

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” Death continued. “I should have kept a closer eye on you.”

More than that, it was Death’s fault they couldn’t help in the first place. Their fault they couldn’t leave this damned plot of land, and all for a bag of flesh Death couldn’t even fully dispose of.

It was all rather… frustrating.

If Kid was convinced by Death’s words, he didn’t let it show, still avoiding eye contact.

“I broke the skateboard,” his son said after a few moments of silence.

Death’s first instinct had been to ask ‘who cares?’, which was quickly squashed it upon realizing Kid cared enough to tell them so. The broken skateboard did matter to Kid and Death’s response, though from a place of good-will, would come out as flippant.

Huh, maybe Death was getting better at this whole parenting thing.

Still, there was still the matter of what Death should say. Kid really liked his skateboard. Maybe they could get a replacement? Death doubted that’d improve Kid’s mood.

An idea, a brilliant yet silly idea -the best of both worlds really- popped into their mind and Death was glad they didn’t have a mouth because they doubted they could hold back a grin.

“In that case...” Death cryptically began and Kid sank further into his bed. No, this reaction wouldn’t do…

“Close your eyes~!” Death continued in the friendliest voice they could muster.

Kid gave them a frown but obeyed anyways, not only cling his eyes but also pressing his palms above them for extra closure. Death found the gesture adorable.

Still facing their son -because they knew Kid wouldn’t peak, Death summoned their Wavelength, careful to change the menacing cackles into more child-friendly balloon-twisting sounds.

Now, Death hadn’t created an object out of their Wavelength for a very long time, not really needing to, but it wasn’t something one could forget. Kid needed a skateboard… so Death would make them skateboard!

As Death put the finishing touches on the objects, they leaned back and admired their work. It looked like a skateboard, so it should function like a skateboard. Plus, they had added a few more features, firstly because it was _Kid’s_ skateboard, and secondly, because why not?

“You can open your eyes now, Kiddo~”

Kid did as told, his gaze drawn by the object at Death’s hands.

He blinked once, then twice. “Is that-?”

“For you!” Death excitedly said as they shoved the skateboard into Kid’s hands, unable to contain themselves. Yes, the object had turned out much better than expected, with an elegant black dark green deck and red wheels for contrast. “It can fly too.”

That functionality had been a priority of Death’s. Jets and wings could be used to fly by function, whereas Death hadn’t encountered any normal skateboards with that capability yet.

Kid’s eyes widened as he looked at the skateboard from every angle. “How…?”

“It’s a construct! An object created from one’s Wavelength!” Death explained as Kid’s confused look gave way to an awed one. “You’ll learn how to make such things as well! And best of all…”

Death gently took hold of Kid’s hand and placed it on the tip of the skateboard’s deck.  “Close your eyes and try to resonate with it!”

Normally, a person would only be able to interact with constructs created by their individual Soul Wavelength, assuming they could create a construct in the first place. In the Grim Reapers’ cases though, such restrictions didn’t exist, due to the simple fact that their Wavelengths were, at a basic level, completely identical.

Kid did as told, and gasped when the skateboard broke apart into thick tendril-like smoke before being absorbed into his palm.

Death was about to tell them how to summon the construct back when Kid extended his hand and unfurled his fists. His Wavelength, identical yet weaker than Death’s, cackled under the skin, eventually coalescing into the skateboard.

The skateboard landed onto Kid’s legs, and he quickly picked up the object, mouth slightly agape. Death look at Kid in surprise at the unprompted action. Their son was a fast learner.

“I can summon it,” Kid stated, expression somewhat between confusion and joy.

“Sure you can! And that’s not all! For example…” Now to think of something simple Kid could do... Well, Death hadn’t bothered with the details too much, not knowing what was proper for a skateboard… “You can add decorations, like images and things! The board is awfully bland…”

And this wasn’t the only thing Kid would need to work on. If Death had learned anything today, it was that they wouldn’t -couldn’t- always be by Kid’s side. It didn’t even have to do with Kid accidentally getting out of their soul’s reach; as Kid grew older, he would take up more responsibilities of a Grim Reaper, including hunting Kishin Eggs and Witches.

Death had noticed that one of the Kishin Egg’s hands was smashed at the wrist and wondered how much Kid had responsible for it. It was encouraging to know their son could already fight back, but he still needed to be trained…

“And we should start looking for a Weapon partner for you Kiddo~” Death casually mentioned, trying not to sound too urgent. “For practice.”

Kid’s face briefly fell, eyes darting to his bandages. The expression was gone a moment later, replaced by a blank look as Kid nodded. Then the younger Grim Reaper turned his full attention back to the skateboard, fawning over it as if it was an irreplaceable treasure.

Death mentally patted themselves on the back. Job well done. A+ parenting.

“Um, Father?”

“Yes?”

Kid grabbed the wheels and pulled. They remained stationary, the bolts fused at the metal. “The wheels are supposed to roll.”

There was a small pause. “Oh.”

Dammit, how could Death have forgotten that the round things were supposed to be wheels? Making the skateboard capable of flight must have taken up too much of their focus…

Oh dear, would Kid misunderstand Death’s error that as a hint that they didn’t care? Oh no-

“It’s on purpose!” Death quickly said, their voice more high-pitched than usual. “Like the designs, it’s to help you practice altering not just the looks, but finer details such as smaller parts of its structure!”

Whelp, that was the worst line Death had ever come up with, and that included an utterly thoughtless remark when an acquaintance was giving birth and Death had promised not to attend. Also, it sounded a bit too much like homework, and the skateboard was supposed to be a hobby, one wasn’t supposed to study so they could practice their hobby-

There were sparkles in Kid’s eyes and he immediately shifted his entire focus to the skateboard. Death doubted waving their hand in front of their son’s face would break their concentration.

The older Grim Reaper silent sighed in relief. They really were helpless when it came to such things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is appreciated.


	5. Astonishment (Empathy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A familiar soul outside of Death City is in need of reaping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist:  
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL5NETqX6IwDZozxZFH-1PUaGRQRmRxl1s
> 
> For this chapter: Purity Ring - Flood on the Floor (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ZyZxxf5fVE&t=0s&list=PL5NETqX6IwDZozxZFH-1PUaGRQRmRxl1s&index=5)

“We’re here.”

Death watched through the Death Room’s mirror as Kid landed, dust and sand blown away by Beelzebub's -Death still had no clue why Kid had named his skateboard that- wheels.

The angle Death watched from could be best described as awkward. Death Room’s mirror was connected to a tiny pocket-sized mirror Kid had wedged between his jacket and shirt. It had been an aspect of this mission that had puzzled Kid at first; after all, he had completed missions on his own without Death’s supervision before. However, after all the stunts their son had pulled lately, not only with recruiting the Thompson sisters -that had been years ago and Death had mostly gotten used to their occasionally rowdy but otherwise pleasant presence- but also with Kid having enrolled into the Academy, Death felt some precautionary supervision was in order.

The secret of Kid’s existence had been blown to pieces ever since their child decided to enroll in the Academy. Needless to say, Death had been worried. Not so much of the staff’s or student’s reaction to Kid, or vice versa; the staff knew better than most than to pull anything, unless they wanted Death angry at them, not only as Grim Reaper but also as their _boss_. As for students, Death had found out that human children were remarkably adaptable. Most of them were already away from home in a foreign country; dealing with a Grim Reaper as a classmate shouldn’t be too much trouble.

Death wasn’t even worried about Kid. Their son turned out to be surprisingly sociable, much better at being friendly and communicating that Death had ever been. He even had a small circle of people he could call friends.

Aside from Kid’s existence being more widespread, thus increasing the chance of attack by Kishin Eggs and Witches as a truly desperate attempt to catch a Grim Reaper, Kid’s ‘friends’ bothered them as much.

Kid was a Grim Reaper, which meant that he knew of the limited time every living being had. To be frank, their son must know that any such friendships wouldn’t last him long, comparatively speaking. And when they came to an end...

But Kid was young, quite sociable and friendly too, unlike how Death was at their youth. Death wouldn’t call their son unwise, but...

Well, Kid couldn’t even be considered an adult by human’s short-lived standards yet. Grim Reaper-wise, Kid hadn’t completed any of his Lines yet. How he would react to an eventual loss was a source of puzzlement and worry for Death.

Even with such worry however, a part of Death was pleasantly surprised. To say Death used to be better at making enemies than friends would be an understatement; even now, with centuries of experience with a friendlier and less outright murderous persona, Death had had very few humans which they could claim to be close with. The only such person currently alive and within range was Spirit, which Death found slightly annoying at times.

Yet Kid had gotten along with Spirit’s daughter, her Weapon partner, the two hellions that were the Thompson sisters, Black Star which was like taming a horse that had a grudge against you, and Tsubaki -but Death would be surprised if Kid didn’t get along with the calm and gentle Weapon.

“Jeez…” came Liz’s voice out of Death’s vision. “That place really took a beating, huh?”

 Death squinted at the tiny view they had available.

The majority of the mirror’s limited vision was taken up by a crumbling building, dust still emanating from recently collapsed walls and roof. The building must have been some sort of country house, modest in size and, had it not been for the caved-in roof and shattered walls, otherwise ordinary.

Death saw no movement from inside the seemingly-deserted building, but their Soul Perception told them a different story. Not only was there a Kishin Egg, there was another soul that…

Death straightened their back upon recognising the second soul within the premises.

Oh dear.

“Liz, Patty,” came Kid’s voice. “Would you mind standing guard?”

Death tilted their head at the request. From what they’d heard and seen, Kid wasn’t one to be so cautious, especially when he knew the area around them was empty, as Death had observed with Soul Perception. Unless...

“You mean we don’t have to go inside that thing?” Liz said with a shudder. “Yes please…”

The mirror moved as Kid made it through the collapsing building. The insides were pitch black, Nevada’s bright sun blocked by brick and mortar. Broken wooden panels creaked and crumbed as Kid pushed them aside, entering the half-collapsed building. Blood was splattered across the walls, mixed with chunks of flesh.

Death thought about calling out to Kid, wondering if their son had gotten so distracted that he’d forgotten their presence, but decided against it. Better to sit back and observe. Death had been curious about Kid’s approach to such circumstances after all.

“Took you long enough,” came an echoed voice from the darkness, gruff, low and very familiar.

Imala, an old acquaintance. Or more accurately, Imala’s soul, right in front of which her ghost stood.

Oh dear indeed.

“Deathscythe Imala.” Kid’s voice was calm and composed. Good so far.

The mirror moved slightly to indicate a small bow.  As for what would follow… Death had taught Kid that the first step of encountering a DWMA’s staff member’s ghost-

The see-through phantasm of Imala sharply waved her hand. “Don’t start. I know. I’ve seen what’s behind me.” Death couldn’t help but glance behind the soul, where a human body cut in half lay. “Which is why I’m not looking that way.”

It wasn’t just Imala’s corpse there; another corpse, a rotting horse-sized carapace with torn-out tentacled limbs lay limp, a red soul floating above it.

“You took it down,” Kid said.

Imala shrugged. “’Course I did. Even if retired, I’m a Deathscythe and all… Unfortunately, it got me as well.”

A small period of silence fell among them as Kid walked past Imala to retrieve the Kisin Egg’s soul.

“At least I got my foot back,” Imala eventually said in a forced nonchalant tone, refusing to turn around. She stood up straighter and rotated her shoulders. “And my back has never felt better.”

Death listened to the lengthy conversation with growing worry. There was a lot of speaking. Usually, when Death had to deal with dead Weapons or Meisters, the matter was resolved within seconds, both sides knowing what needed to be done.

Then again, this was Kid’s reaping and Imala wasn’t a usual Weapon.

“Was this the only one?” Kid asked.

“Reckon so,” Imala said, keeping her gaze firmly ahead. “But I think it might have been directed here.”

Death perked up at that. That was new information.

“You think you were targeted?” Kid concerned voice came through the connection.

Imala crossed her hands. “A Kishin Egg attack in Nevada, where it ignored the more densely populated Lovelock town and attacked the reservation, specifically the house where an old  
Deathscythe is retired? What are the chances of that happening?”

She had a point, Death had to admit. Soul eaters were usually mindless beasts and headed to the most densely populated areas close to them.

“It also spoke Italian,” Imala grumbled. “Felt like I was fighting Super Mario or something.”

That was also suspicions. Had they gotten reports of soul eaters from Italy? Death would have to look into that.

Just as Death was trying to recall any past incidents of Italian Kishin Eggs washing up in North America, Imala’s gaze found the mirror and for a moment, Death and Deathscythe stared at each other in silence.

Kid cleared his throat. “Is there-?”

“You were listening in this whole time?!”

A ghostly hand temporarily covered Death’s vision as the mirror shaken back and forth, any limited visibility they had becoming non-existent.

“Father!” came Kid’s voice through the cacophony and Death thought long and hard about shutting off the connection.

At that exact moment a second call came through the Death Mirror and Death grabbed that excuse like a lifeline, letting out a quick quip about being called and closing the line. With a relieved sigh, Death answered the second call…

Only for the area around Death to light up and the entirety of their surroundings to change, as they manifested in hologram form inside the ruined building.

Imala’s hunched over form, still yelling at the now blank mirror, froze as she regarded Death’s newly-appeared more comprehensive form. Next to her Kid had just retracted his hands, giving them an apologetic look.

Death looked down; the ground was covered in the familiar scribbles whenever Kid called them via the inherent connection between the Grim Reapers and not the flimsy mirror.

So, Kid had called Death, probably believing that not having to rely on a tiny mirror would lead to a better outcome.

Dammit it all.

Imala tossed the mirror aside to Kid’s protest. “Oh good, now I can yell at you in 3D-”

“I’m sure that’s not necessary-” Kid spoke up.

“I was about to- were you even going to speak up?!” a scandalized Imala let out.

Well, this was getting nowhere. Death didn’t like getting shouty, especially not at old partners, but this conversation was unnecessary-

“Deathscythe Imala,” Kid spoke up again, his voice firmer and louder than before. Both Death and Imala turned to look at him, the latter with a scowl. “I’m sure this came as a shock to all of us. I had forgotten about the mirror I carried, and I believe Father didn’t speak up not to cause you any further disturbance.”

Imala stared at Death. They had a feeling that she didn’t fully buy Kid’s explanation.

“I would also like to apologize on behalf of the Academy-”

“Apologize?” Imala cut him off with a frown.

“As you said, this was likely a planned attack. The DWMA should have considered your status as a retired Deathscythe living outside Death City and installed some type of security.”

Imala’s eyebrows rose at Kid’s words.  When the younger Grim Reaper gave her a small apologetic bow, she looked away and rubbed her neck.

“It’s too late for that now. But thanks, I suppose.” Her calm, almost defeated tone, was a complete change from her previous demeanor.  “Is my family…?”

“They’re at the outskirts of the Reservation.”

Death frowned. When had Kid checked that? How had he remembered to check that in the first place?

“Good, good,” Imala repeated to herself. She sighed again, her frame hunching as she looked everywhere but behind her. “The house will need to be rebuilt,” she murmured, her eyes strayed at her back, but she looked away quickly after. “Closed-casket funeral unless I want to give the grandkids nightmares…”

“We will take of that as well.”

Death watched the conversation take place, unsure what to do. Kid seemed to have everything handled, though unlike they would have done, which would have involved more shouting and maybe a use of what they dubbed their ‘scary’ voice.

Imala let out a sigh and held out her hand. “Now if you wouldn’t mind; these bones are old.”

Kid held out his hand as well and Imala’s form vanished into the blue of her soul as it stood floating above a mangled body.

The younger Grim Reaper carefully brought the soul in his grasp and Death felt it was time to disconnect the call. They had seen enough.

As the connection buzzed and closed off, Death was feeling, as Spirit would describe, a bit of a dick.

Should they have spoken up when they saw Imala? She had been a faithful Deathscythe, like all others, but that simply had never been part of Death’s procedure.

Maybe Kid’s new approach was better, whatever it was called, was better. Only time could tell.

Still, Death could only hope they had taught them enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is appreciated.


	6. Joy (Attacking)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The First Line of Sanzu is connected and Death doesn’t know how to react.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL5NETqX6IwDZozxZFH-1PUaGRQRmRxl1s
> 
> For this chapter: Purity Ring – Asido (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ivaGaT2jq0&index=6&list=PL5NETqX6IwDZozxZFH-1PUaGRQRmRxl1s)

“Lord Death!” came Deathscythe’s worried voice as Death felt a pair of hands as the only thing that prevented them from hitting the ground. “What happened?! Are you feeling alright?!”

Alright? No Death wouldn’t describe right now as anything close to ‘alright’. One moment they were reading updates on the raid of Arachne’s lair, the other moment they had lost their balance, a numbness overtaking them and -were those fragments broken pieces of their mask?!

How did Death feel? They had never experienced anything like this. Even after giving birth to Kid, their soul raw from the removal, they had simply felt that their powers had been partially inaccessible. This however…

Death felt _drained_. Exhaustion would probably be how someone like Spirit might describe it -though they weren’t sure what actual exhaustion felt like. But why? Was it a spell, like the one that had trapped them during Asura’s revival?

Death’s Wavelength pulsed as it travelled through their soul, scouring for any hint of magic, any type of energy that could act as an inhibitor.

It came up empty.

Meanwhile, Death’s exhaustion hadn’t abated one bit which set off all sorts of red flags. The longer it persisted the bigger Death’s worry became, because the only thing that could cause such damage to a Grim Reaper’s Wavelength was-

Oh.

Death hadn’t even completed their line of thought when the answer became as clear to them as day. This ‘exhaustion’ wasn’t a spell or anything so pedestrian, it couldn’t be. In fact, when Death stopped looking for external factors and reached into their soul, into the lurking pool of their power…

The Lines.

Kid had connected one of his Lines of Sanzu. Judging from how much power Death could still muster, they estimated that only one Line had been completed thus far.

Yet… the Lines could be completed one after the other; there was no such thing as a waiting period. If Kid had already activated one of them, then at any other moment the other two could activate as well and Death would…

To be honest, they had expected a bit more fanfare. Raiding Baba Yaga was no small feat, but it felt odd that this would be the mission where Kid would ascend. Death would have guessed it would be a more major operation, such as invading the Witches’ Realm, or, with recent developments, fighting Asura.

Oh well, it wasn’t as if Death could do anything about it. Sure, they could put up some resistance to the Line’s completion, and Kid, being unused to them, would probably not push it, but why would Death do that? Wasn’t this why they had created Kid in the first place?

As sudden as it came, the connection broke and Death felt their own power return slowly, like filling a tub.

So it wouldn’t be this time. Still, the fact that Kid had connected his Lines already… Death had expected the process to take a couple of more years. Then again, they had no idea how this Grim Reaper parenting thing was supposed to work simply because it wasn’t a thing that usually happened.

Oh well.

“I’m just tired,” Death nonchalantly said, bringing themselves upright and brushing imaginary dust off their cloak. “You know I like to keep long times, and these old bones aren’t as spry as they used to be…”

Spirit’s frown persisted, though the man said nothing. If he had any suspicions about the Lines of Sanzu, he didn’t voice them.

All the better for Death; they hadn’t told anyone about this and they doubted they ever would. Having it been known that Death was on borrowed time would not only make attacks on Death City more frequent, but would also paint a bigger target on Kid’s back, with their son set to inherit all of Death’s power.

Not to mention if Kid found out… Death had no doubt their son would eventually do what was needed, but they could only imagine the guilt.

No, it was better if Kid didn’t know. Let Death take this secret to their grave, unlike all others pried away from them. This was their own burden to bear.

Death caught one of the falling fragments of heir mask. Part of it blended with the white of their blocky hands, while the rest faded into nothing. It wouldn’t be long until the rest of them followed suit.

Perhaps Death should have felt some regret, some sort of existential horror, about all the things they had wanted to do but never managed to, or at all the things they had done wrong -and oh boy, that would be a long list. Perhaps they would have felt fear had they not ripped it all away eons ago.

Yet, despite all these considerations, Death couldn’t help but feel joy. It had been a long time and these old bones needed to rest after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is appreciated.


	7. Dread (Recuperation)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation Kid doesn’t want and Death dreads to have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL5NETqX6IwDZozxZFH-1PUaGRQRmRxl1s
> 
> For this chapter: Purity Ring – Belispeak (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wVcOwVD4V30&index=7&list=PL5NETqX6IwDZozxZFH-1PUaGRQRmRxl1s)

Death was sewing.

This was an act that they had grown all too familiar this past decade and a half, courtesy of their son. Kid, despite all his strengths and ways Death was proud of him, took to clothing like a shredder to paper. Then again, maybe Death would be similar if they had to rely on human clothing.

Still, that still left the small problem of Kid’s wardrobe needing to be replenished in some manner. The initial approach was to simply buy more clothes, but that only made the sales clerks concerned at the fast rate of clothing their son went through despite the lack of any growth spurts, so that approach hadn’t lasted long.

Eventually Death had settled for fixing whatever clothing was salvageable themselves, and found that they very much enjoyed the activity. There were repeatable patterns to it that put their mind at ease, that brought a sense of normalcy and leisure that they desperately craved for, especially these past few months.

Death’s routine was broken when Kid entered the room and sat next to them, saying nothing. Death had initially found it strange as Kid would usually only stop by and at minimum greet his Father, but they supposed the time for normalcy had been long gone, after…

The abduction.

Its aftereffects were pervasive even in small moments like this, in the silence of the room, why Death was sewing in the dead of night in the first place. Kid had shown up with his jacket gone and the sleeves of his shirt torn off, with smaller cuts spread throughout his clothing.

Then there were the small patches of dried blood. The sight of them, even if in miniscule amounts, had always been a source of distress, and Death doubted it would ever stop being one.

Overall though, Death had been pleasantly surprised. They had expected more… They hadn’t expected to find much of a uniform in the first place, not to mention having Kid been fully conscious and having healed any wounds -Death hadn’t been delusional enough to think their child hadn’t been hurt. The fact the damage had been minimal suggested that any harm Kid had suffered had been minimal as well, didn’t it?

It had to. Any implications of harm existed only in Kid’s physical form… Death hadn’t noticed any worrying irregularities in Kid’s soul, but then again they had never been any good at noticing such things, had they? If they had, then Asura...

Grateful for their pupil-less eyes, Death sneaked a peek at Kid who kept silently resting on their side. Their son hadn’t talked about the time he spent under Noah’s hold ever since he arrived. Death had been and still was curious, but didn’t want to push Kid. If their son had anything he wanted to say, then all Death should do is wait and listen and, after all was said and done, offer their advice.

That was the best approach, wasn’t it?

Death found themselves letting out a slow nonchalant hum. It broke the oppressive silence and would hopefully lift Kid’s mood. In past times when their son did hang around while Death had been sewing, the hum either put him to sleep, or in more recent years made him relax somewhat. Death hoped this instance was as comforting as the rest.

Like clockwork, some of the tension eased from Kid’s shoulders, and he leant closer to Death, resting his head against their frame.

That was strange. It had been years since Kid had last done that. Then again, their son had just come back from being kidnapped, so maybe it would be weird if Kid didn’t seek more comfort than usual.

Death continued their hum as if nothing unusual had happened. Maybe all both of them needed was a sense of normalcy, a remembrance of quitter times…

Kid’s breaths turned shallow and soon enough his whole body was shuddering.

Death, their grip on the needle and cloth momentarily slackened, paused from their sewing and looked down at their child. “Kid?”

A sob. Never a good sign. In fact, a very bad sign. When coming from Kid, the _worst_ sign.

“Son?” Death asked again, leaving their sewing equipment on the table and gingerly bringing an arm around Kid.

Their son’s eyes were closed shut, their face facing away from Death, his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

“I think something’s wrong with me.”

The words were whispered, but Death heard them like thunder on the dead of night. Immediately, they brought a hand around Kid in reassurance, holding him close.

“Why do you think that?” Death tried to keep their voice neutral, hiding their own developing dread, but it only resulted in a flat tone which was anything but comforting.

Damn it all.

“In the Book of Eibon…” Kid began upon getting his breathing under control and Death felt the room grow awfully small.

Their son opened his mouth to continue but immediately slammed it shut. Was he regretting bringing it up in the first place? Even if so, Death couldn’t -wouldn’t let it go.

Slowly and carefully, making sure their own trepidation was hidden in a faraway part of their soul, Death’s Wavelength reached out to Kid’s. It was a gesture Death had avoided doing so far, a small-scale resonance, a common but unconscious action between parents and children. Kid had been trying to reach to Death when he’d been younger, but the older Grim Reaper had blocked any resonance attempts, wary of the possibility of reabsorption. Now though, that Kid was older, had already completed some of the Lines, was an _individual_ , Death had no excuse not to. They initiated the contact, a strand of their Wavelength reaching out to Kid’s soul…

Death’s grip grew slightly tighter when Kid blocked the connection. Death never expected to be on the receiving side of a block and felt… well, untrustworthy. That they were unreliable. Hell, Death supposed such an evaluation wasn’t too far off-

No, Death had no time to think of these things. Their son was crying by their side. The had to focus.

Alright, so Kid had blocked off the connection. Still it wasn’t an indication that Kid’s didn’t want to talk about it at all. Maybe they wanted some space, or the spiritual equivalent of one. Kid hadn’t recoiled from Death, so maybe they could still salvage this.

“Kid?” Death asked in the softest voice they could muster.

The young Grim Reaper -Death couldn’t help but notice that Kid were so small, still tiny enough that he could still be technically held on just one of their hands- gave off a shudder at Death’s voice.

“I almost…” Kid said after a few false starts. “I did…”

Purely lost on what proper and considerate reaction Death should perform, they simply settled for a gentle rub on the back.

Kid took in a deep breath, his whole frame tensing.

“It took over. Briefly.” He gulped. “The Madness…”

Death’s hand came to an abrupt stop. In fact, everything about Death’s world came to an abrupt stop.

The Madness.

Asura.

‘Took over’ Kid had just said.

No.

No, _not again-_

Keeping their grip gentle but firm, Death focused solely on Kid’s soul, dreading what they might see. Dreading the sight would be familiar to the one centuries ago, erratically pulsing and red-

A small yellow soul greeted their vision. Every once in a while, it would shudder. No major red patches, no other deformities.

Death did the mental equivalent of blinking.

There… wasn’t any difference. Kid’s soul was as it was before, perhaps a bit more fearful as signified by the occasional shaking, but just as Death remembered it. That wasn’t…

Asura’s soul had _changed_. Upon their first fragment’s descent into madness, the soul had been twisted to an almost unrecognizable color, to the point where one couldn’t even tell of the Grim Reaper heritage. Yet Kid’s soul…

No, judging from the souls, even if Kid had been briefly overtaken by his Madness, it hadn’t been permanent like Asura. It couldn’t be.

Death had no idea what they would do if it was.

“It’s ok,” Death softly said, and this time they truly meant it. “Go on.”

Briefly, they wondered why Kid was so afraid. The first reason Death thought was because of traumatic memories. Death didn’t want to remember their old Madness, and they had violently wretched themselves from it with Asura’s creation. To go through it and still come out the other side… No wonder Kid didn’t want to tell them.

Yet another part of Death, the one that had submerged after having been buried deep inside their psyche, the reason Death had once been feared by everyone, had started making… plans, if one could call them that, the moment Kid’s words had been uttered. Death couldn’t help but wonder how much Kid was aware of that side, and if that had been the reason…

“There was this… being…” Kid hesitantly continued, still pressed tightly against Death’s form, eyes shut, nails digging at his forearms. “A Black Mass…”

The Great Old One of Power. Had they been involved? If so…

Death would _kill_ them. If there was one being that could kill an Old One, that was Death, and if they ever encountered the Great Old One of Power before, they would tear the soul from whatever pathetic form they manifested as and make them _suffer_ -

“It said things.”

Kid’s words brought them back to reality. This was no time to fantasize about revenge. Their son needed them.

Death gave Kid what hoped would be interpreted as a gentle squeeze. Very little parts of them were feeling gentle right now.

“It called itself a Great Old One,” Kid continued. “It called you, Father, a Great Old one.” His hand unclenched, as if defeated. “And it called me a fragment.”

Death couldn’t help but frown. They hadn’t told Kid about any of this. Death could make up excuses as to why, that there wasn’t enough time, that Kid was too young to understand, that all this trouble with the Kishin had caused everything to go to hell in a handbasket…

“ _Our very existence leads to Madness_ …” Kid echoed and if Death had a stomach, they would feel it drop. “That’s what it told me, when referring to the Great Old Ones before…” Kid’s voice trailed off and Death felt him shuffle as he neatly adjusted the cuffs of his new shirt, one of the many backups of his wardrobe.

Well, that was… bad. If _that_ had been Kid’s first exposure to the inherent Madness of the Great Old Ones, then how could Death expect him to face-

“After it said that, I…” Kid went silent again.

Death patiently waited for a continuation. When none came, Death looked down at their child and gave them a light pat. “Son?”

Kid stayed silent, hands tightly crossed his torso -had he always been this thin?- and Death felt any progress they’d made thus far vanish into thin air.

They hadn’t just hit a wall, they’d crashed against a military-grade nuclear bunker.

Maybe if they tried the resonance this time…

Death’s wavelength had barely come in contact with Kid’s but the resonance manifested immediately, a stable connection between the two where there was no need for words as Death could feel…

The void-like white of blank pages.

A colorless lurking shape.

A steady drip-drip of black that turned into a torrent.

**M a d n e s s.**

**Childish notions of order, of nihilistic concepts of existence stemming from an innate imbalance, a _f r a g m e n t e d_    existence-**

_-a sharp collision to his jaw sending him reeling_ -

As Death reemerged from Kid’s memories, they discovered that part of their Wavelength had already been rushing over Kid in reassurance. Calmer breathing and hands loosely at his side signified it’d been an effective gesture. Yet there was no time for Death to feel proud of their parental instinct as what they’d just experienced…

“You overcame it,” was the only thing Death could bring themselves to say.

Kid shook his head. “Black Star’s the one who did it. He… punched me.”

Ah, so that explained what that last disorienting memory had been. “A punch?”

“To be fair, there was some talking as well. Kicks too,” Kid explained, his forehead wrinkled in thought. “But yes, there was an uppercut.”

“…Huh.”

“I understand how he came up with the idea but I’m still not sure why it worked.” A small smile flickered on his face. “That’s Black Star in a nutshell I guess.”

“You still overcame it,” Death repeated. The implications of this feat were still unfolding in their mind.

“It’s still there,” Kid insisted, and his breathing became shallower again. “If I think about it too hard-”

“Don’t,” Death cut him off and sent another reassuring wave of their Wavelength through Kid, who shifted in the embrace. “Not now. That you managed to overcome it means more than you can imagine.”

Death truly meant that. _They_ had never recovered, and that had resulted in the creation of Asura. Asura who, once they gave in to the Madness, never recovered and had to be subdued by Death, a process they couldn’t even complete, resulting in a trapped Kishin.

Yet Kid had done it though. Somehow, their child had managed to overcome the fog, the omnipresence of the Madness.

Death couldn’t be...

“I couldn’t be prouder.”

Yet despite the honesty, the joy behind these words, their son still wouldn’t look at them.

“But what if…” Kid hesitantly began. “If it happens again…”

Ah, right back into unfamiliar territory; Death’s favorite.

“Then you need to be ready for it. This…” ‘is part of the Great Old One’s nature, _our_ nature’ is what Death initially wanted to say but it didn’t feel _right_ , “isn’t something you can ultimately escape.”

Kid let out a long exhale, his expression crestfallen.

“But it is something you can manage,” Death quickly added, since they had just learned that Kid had done exactly that. “I don’t know how hard it will be…” Because Death had never managed to overcome it, “but you know from firsthand experience that it is doable.”

Kid gave Death a furtive glance before looking down at his feet. “Actually… I’ve been researching a few things. About managing…” Kid paused, frowning as if he were trying to find the right words, “obsessions. They’re supposed to be guidelines for humans but I think they might help.”

Huh. That would have never crossed Death’s mind.

“Can’t hurt to try, right?” They asked with a tilt of the head.

Kid shrugged. “I suppose. I’ve talked to Liz and Patty about it. Patty is excited -too excited to be honest- to start and Liz’s… trying her best to be supportive.”

Ah yes. The sisters. The Weapons. That Kid would trust them with this…

Well, all Death could say on the matter was that the closest they’d bonded with Spirit was the exchange of baby photos. Still very personal for Death’s standards, but this…

Perhaps this was had Death and Asura had missed. This was the magic ingredient to combating the Madness. Closeness.

Support.

“And Father…”

Death looked down and this time made actual eye contact with Kid and they couldn’t bring themselves to look away.

“If there’s anything you want to talk about as well…”

Death stared at Kid in silent surprise. Where had that suggestion come from? Was Kid suspecting something? Had their son figured anything out, and if so, how much-?

“And I don’t mean to say you need to talk about anything,” Kid quickly added, palms upturned as if they’d committed a grave offense, “but just in case…”

Ah. An empathetic gesture, something Death had difficulties more often than not. A preemptive measure. Regrettably, that was a little too late for Death.

Death softly patted Kid on the head.

“Thank you, but I’m afraid,” Death realized their unfortunate phrasing too late, “there isn’t much to say, kiddo.”

Kid stood up straight as Death spoke. “Oh. Right, of course…”

The two stood in relative silence after that, until a brilliant, in their opinion, idea crossed Death’s mind. After all, they had to be supportive of their child’s endeavors and what better way to do that than by actual actions?

Death brought up the repaired shirt and marveled at their handiwork. Blocky fingers or not, Death had never met anyone else more skilled with a needle.

“I think it’s done. What do you think, son?”

Kid looked up and down the shirt. Like lightning, his face briefly twisted into a grimace. “There’s…”

Ah, so he’d noticed.

Death followed Kid’s gaze and saw _it_ as clear as day. They knew Kid had seen _it_ as well from the quickly-hidden grimace. A white patch that was slightly, almost imperceptibly, off-kilter with its equivalent on the other side.

“It’s… fine. It’s good.” Kid reached out and Death handed him the shirt. His eyes glanced at the patch and he took a deep breath. “This is fine.”

Death eyed Kid with a frown. They had meant to help, but if they’d gone too far… “If it’s too much, you don’t have to-”

“No, no, this is exactly what I have to do,” Kid insisted with a sharp inhale, followed by an equally sharp exhale as he neatly folded the shirt.

Kid sat up and gave Death a small bow. “Thank you, Father.”

Death reciprocated the bow and gave Kid one last hair ruffle for the day. “Take care, son.”

Kid initially tried to avoid the ruffle with all the grace of his human teenage peers, but quickly admitted defeat and settled for having to straighten his hair later on. “I will...”

Before exiting the door, Kid gave Death one last look. “You too Father.”

Death watched Kid depart with a fond look. When the door closed behind him, Death’s gaze then turned to the small pile of clothes they still had to repair and felt the aforementioned enthusiasm slightly drop.

Still, as Death returned to repairing the rest of their clothes, their mind kept replaying that past interaction.

For all intents and purposes, Kid was ready. He had already faced the Madness. In fact he was taking active steps to keep it a bay, an act an earlier version of Death would have considered foolish, while the current version of Death hadn’t bothered to consider at all. Yet Kid had.

Their son was ready, yet…

Kid was ready, yet Death still couldn’t bring themselves to explain the full implication of this to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is appreciated.


	8. Pride (Death)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL5NETqX6IwDZozxZFH-1PUaGRQRmRxl1s
> 
> For this chapter: Purity Ring – Stillness In Woe (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yr5zk6Z57sU&index=1&t=0s&list=PL5NETqX6IwDZozxZFH-1PUaGRQRmRxl1s)

An alliance with the Witches.

At first, Death had thought the suggestion had been a prank and quickly made sure the date wasn’t April 1st.

They had also checked over Kid’s soul desperately searching for any indication of a lie, because this surely could not have been a serious proposal.

Hours later, when Kid had ventured into the Witches’ Realm, Death still didn’t fully believe in the idea. Part of them thought -or had they hoped?- that an alliance was an excuse, a ploy to reach the Witches’ Realm in the first place, upon which Kid would take out their biggest rival since Asura.

Any such thoughts were quickly shattered when Kid returned with the young Witch, with no signs that he had been attacked or attacked anyone, and before Death knew it they were on a call with the actual Grand Witch. A call that had been one of the most surreal moments of their very long life, where they had been casually chatting about the finer points of a shared strategy. With Witches.

And the call had gone smoothly, with a rather solid plan having been made.

If there was any indication that Death, their preconceptions, their ideas, were in dire need of replacement, a successful Witch alliance would be it.

An _alliance_ with the _Witches_.

Death still couldn’t believe it.

And, above all, Kid’s plan _worked_. Just when things looked dire, the old hag -Death supposed they couldn’t refer to her like that anymore- Maba and her Council had come through, protecting the Airship and containing the Clown’s Wavelength.

Death would never have imagined this level of cooperation, let alone consider it plausible in the first place.

They looked up. The three Lines of Sanzu floated above them, probably for the best.

Death looked ahead at the Death Room.

This was it then. They supposed they had a decent enough run. Establishing the Academy was a positive, wasn’t it? It certainly helped Weapons control their powers -after Arachne had released them there had been so many reports of accidental amputation and deaths related to uncontrolled transformations.

Then again, it wasn’t as if Death had built the Academy out of the goodness of their heart. It had been a way to alleviate the effects of their self-made prison, to prevent the creation of any Kishin Eggs and Witches that would seek Asura’s revival…

And well, that had worked out _well_. The Witches’ influence had been held at bay, but the three Gorgon sisters had remained at large, each one plotting schemes, one more devastating than the other, until Asura had been freed.

In fact, if Death hadn’t created Asura, their first fragment, maybe this whole mess wouldn’t have happened in the first place…

Then again, maybe if Arachne had never created the Demon Weapons…

But then again, Arachne’s madness had something to do with Eibon, some sort of a revenge plot where if Death hadn’t interfered…

Oh well. None of it mattered now. Arachne was dead, along with her sisters. Eibon was in self-exile. Asura would be defeated any moment now, either sealed or…

… Death couldn’t even remember why they had created Kid in the first place. Their memory was failing them.

Maybe it was for the best. Death had enough guilt to last them a lifetime. Correction; it had already lasted them several lifetimes.

No, all Death could do now was wait. The situation had spiraled out of their control long ago. It just took them an equally long time to understand that it had, until they felt Kid complete the first line.

Still, waiting like this felt… cowardly, somewhat. If only Death hadn’t permanently trapped their soul, they would be up there in the Moon taking down Asura themselves instead of helplessly watching events unfold beyond their control.

Then again if they hadn’t trapped their soul, would Kid have existed in the first place? Because if Death had still been free to roam the world-

No, this wasn’t a line of thought worth getting into. Kid was one of the dreadfully few parts of Death’s legacy they could claim were good with full certainty. ‘What if’ scenarios about him were not needed.

Everything would proceed more or less as Death had planned. Kid would complete his Lines, become a full Grim Reaper, and take down Asura. Death’s biggest point of worry all this time, the revelation that the Grim Reapers were the purveyors of the Madness of Order, had long been assuaged. From their talk after the Book of Eibon, Death knew Kid would control their lurking Madness. From everything else, Death knew Kid wouldn’t use it.

Most importantly however…

Kid would understand, wouldn’t he? When he would return to Death City and Death wouldn’t be there to greet him… Death had kept the true nature of the Lines of Sanzu a secret, their last secret, one among many.

Surely Kid would have noticed the cracks in their mask? Surely he’d make the connection between the two?

Even then, would the fact that Death had kept it a secret lead Kid to make the wrong conclusions? Death hadn’t even left a note, and it was too late to start writing one now. It would just end up in a half-scribble, and who knows how people, _how Kid_ , would interpret that.

No, this way was for the best. Kid would know. If not by the moment he ascended, then later, when he would grow more familiar with the full range of powers -and recollections- of the Grim Reaper. He’d understand, sooner than later. Death trusted him enough to do so.

They were both the same soul, after all.

Next to them, Excalibur, uncharacteristically sober, asked something about fear.

Death wouldn’t say they hated or were fond of the Great Old One of Rage, so they settled for a vague enough response, one that would hopefully satisfy them.

Words weren’t important now.

Through a shared connection, Death felt Kid’s third line connect, as their own lines let off a brilliant glow. Their senses faded along with their crumbling body, until all that was left was a rapidly shrinking soul.

Throughout all this, Death couldn’t be prouder.

**THE END**

**A NEW BEGINNING**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> As I’m currently going through the process of posting my WIPs to motivate myself, a new Soul Eater story is now up, called A Spider’s Skull. Summary: After ensuring Death and Asura have destroyed each other, Arachne adopts a wounded stray from the battlefield as her child. When her son turns out to be a Grim Reaper, however, both the remnants of the Academy and Asura's Clowns are eager to claim him, and the mother of demon weapons is trapped between saving her child or destroying an old formidable enemy.
> 
> New chapters will be up every Saturday, and I have enough chapters written already for consistent updates until mid-February.
> 
> In addition, After Death and An Unorthodox Alliance (plus Evil Overlord List: An Applied Perspective for HMS/DIAPT fans) will continue with their regular posting schedule.
> 
> Finally, look forward to December-February season where I’ll post 2 10k+ completed Soul Eater stories for Resbang 2018.
> 
> As always, feedback of any kind (even a simple ‘aaaaaa’) is appreciated. :P


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